Preternatural

The Shitty Dimension

The pull of consciousness grabs Vernon's eyes and rips them open. Sunlight beams through the cracks in his blinds and sears into his eyes. An empty bottle of Prozac sits on the counter, which he slaps away as he flails toward his alarm clock. This apartment smells like garbage.

In another room, Eric springs out of bed, ready to start the day. He throws on one of his many favorite t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Before leaving his room, he glances at the mirror hanging on his door, and flexes a little.

"Hey, dude. You ready for today?" asks Vernon.

Eric stares at his brother, whose long messy hair partly covers his blank stare.

"Yep," Eric responds, jumping onto the futon and kicking his feet up. His blonde hair seems to reflect the sunlight pouring into the room.

"It's a big one. Another dimension, Eric. Do you think we can handle this?"

"When have we not been able to? Don't worry about it. We're completely prepared."

"Yeah, I guess so. We have a bunch of experience with those poltergeists. What could go wrong?"

A lot, is the answer, which they both know on some level. Holding in their anxiety toward the trip, they each smile warily before getting into the car. It stalls for a second before starting.

About 30 minutes into the drive, Vernon sighs.

"I bet this is the shitty dimension."

"What are you on about?" asks Eric.

"I'm just saying. I bet interdimensional beasts and stuff avoid coming here. They probably lock the doors on their timespace devices while passing through."

Eric stares blankly.

"Why is it that everything out of your mouth is negative?"

"I'm just saying!"

After a few hours, they arrive at the laboratory. A multitude of steel doors block their path, each careening open with a loud screeching noise, accompanied by the closing of the door behind them. As they pass through each layer, they feel intesifying heat. Finally, another door opens, and they stare into a large dim room full of odd-looking machinery. In its center, a floating green orb screams as it seems to gently pull its surroundings toward it. A pen flies in and disappears.

"Uh..." Vernon manages to get out, "...is this the lab of a Dr. Zimmel?"

A tall but lanky man rushes toward them from behind a counter.

"Yes! Hello! I am Zimmel! This is the reason I called you and why I require your services, gentlemen."

He points to the floating orb.

"Okay," Eric says coolly, "and it's still ten thousand."

"But of course! Please do be quick about it, though. I have more research to do." As he says this, the doctor's eyes spark wildly and a manic grin spreads across his face.

Vernon stares at him quizzically before walking forward.

"You ready?"